


Extra hours

by ylc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, F/F, M/M, Rom-com, Some Humor, different professions too, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-21 11:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15557082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: It’s hard to have a relationship when you work too many extra hours.But not impossible.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So… this. I was inspired to write it when I was looking for something to watch on Netflix and the trailer of “Set it up” came up. Lucy Liu was the selling point for me, really, but I thought the premise had some promise :P Now, I haven’t gotten around watching the actual movie, so I have no idea how similar or not it actually is, but well… I hope you’ll enjoy it regardless.  
> It’ll be super short, mostly because I didn’t want to make it super dramatic or super angsty. Also, I promised myself I wouldn’t start posting another fic until a) I was done with two of my WIPs (I’m done with one) or b) had it finished and well… here we are :P  
> Enjoy!

“Good evening.”

Sally startles awake, looking around herself wildly. Anthea smiles, in that unfairly attractive way of hers and slides behind Sally, in her way to the coffee machine. Sally is painfully aware of the way their bodies brush together and she hurries to distract herself by fumbling with the sugar container.

She can hear Anthea pouring some coffee and she looks at her from the corner of her eye. Of course the other woman catches her at it, raising an eyebrow challengingly and Sally turns her attention back to her own cup of coffee.

“Long night?” Anthea asks pleasantly and Sally half turns to her, finding her leaning against the counter, smiling confidently. Sally’s eyes scan her up and down, with a mix of desire and envy. She looks perfectly put together, in her dark blue dress and her high heels, hair falling flawlessly over her shoulders. In contrast, Sally has lost her heels hours ago, her blouse has a dark stain of… something (she has no idea what) and her hair resembles a bird nest, no doubt.

“It's bloody midnight,” she says sulkily. “How do you manage to look like that pulling the same hours I do?”

Anthea smirks, putting her coffee cup down. “Picky boss,” she says, smiling mischievously. “He wouldn't tolerate me not looking my very best.”

Sally huffs. “Sounds like a jerk.”

Anthea laughs and god, it should be illegal for someone to be this endearing. “Not really, no. Workaholic, no doubt and a perfectionist who has no concept of relaxation but, you know, he’s nice.”

Sally frowns a little, noticing Anthea’s fond tone. “You like him,” she says, her mouth running away from her brain, as usual. She blushes furiously, thinking her jealousy is plain to see and Anthea grins like the Cheshire cat.

“I do,” she agrees. “But not like that. For one, we have a too good working relationship to want to risk it and besides, we’re both the wrong gender for each other.”

“Oh,” Sally murmurs, feeling quite silly. “Sorry, I didn't mean—"

Anthea waves a hand dismissively. Sally opens her mouth to say something more but then her phone vibrates in her pocket and she makes a face. “Sorry, duty calls,” Sally says, picking the coffee cup that has now gotten lukewarm and she cringes a little. Chances are Greg won’t notice, but... “Boss will drop dead if he doesn't get his caffeine fix in the next minute.”

Anthea chuckles good naturedly, picking up her own coffee cup. “Mine probably has a little more time to live, but I should get going too. Have a pleasant evening.”

“You too,” Sally replies as the other woman slides past her once more, her hand brushing Sally’s waist rather purposefully, she thinks.

For a beat, she stands there, watching the other woman go and then her phone vibrates once more, making her snap out of her silly daydreams. “I’m coming, I’m coming!” she yells as she makes her way down the hall, in the exact opposite direction Anthea left. Her phone is vibrating again, this time with an incoming call.

She can’t figure out what her boss in more addicted to: his work or his caffeine.

It's a close call, no doubt.

* * *

 

“Ah, Sal, thank god your back!” Greg exclaims, in an excessively dramatic fashion in Sally’s opinion, but she just rolls her eyes fondly, passing him the coffee cup which he hurries to take a sip from. “Oh god. Your Heaven sent, Sal, have I mentioned it?”

“A couple of times,” she replies amusedly, dropping herself at her usual seat. 

“Oh, but it’s true,” Greg says, although his focus is back on whatever is on his computer. “What would I do without you?”

Sally huffs, leaning back on her seat, staring at the wall absentmindedly. Her own work awaits for her on her computer’s screen, although she’s mostly done for the night. But that’s the life of a personal assistant: you manage your boss’ time (and if she might say so herself, she does one hell of a good job) but her own time isn’t hers to manage.

“Will we be calling it a night anytime soon?” she asks, not really expecting an answer and so she’s not surprised by Greg’s absent minded hum. She sighs, closing her eyes for a little bit.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t have a real life of her own, she muses quietly. Some days she misses dating and going out, but for the most part she truly doesn’t mind having to stay back when her boss works late. Besides, she does like Greg a great deal even if the man is a bit of a workaholic.

She thinks back to her short break and her even shorter conversation with Anthea, a small smile on her lips. Does she has a girlfriend, she wonders. Probably not, seeing she keeps the same crazy schedule Sally does. Maybe she’s looking to change that status too.

She smiles to herself, thinking maybe she ought to ask. They already spend what little free time they have with each other, surely there’s no harm in getting to know each other better?

An idea worth exploring, no doubt.

“Hey Sal, do you mind passing me the Smitherson’s file?”

Well then, time to stop daydreaming and go back to work, she supposes. “Do you have a life outside this office?” Sally finds herself asking while she goes to fetch the file. It occurs her it’s been a while since Greg asked her to buy any flowers or expensive gifts and, for as long as she’s been working with Greg, she has never known of any significant other, although she supposes the gifts meant they existed.

Greg huffs, taking the file from her and reviewing something. “I had a wife, if that’s what you’re asking. I think you might have met her a couple of times, when she showed up unannounced to try to drag me out for lunch,” he notes something down on his computer and then passes the file back to Sally. “Although you were probably too busy with something else to have paid her any mind. Just as myself, apparently.”

Sally nods, thinking she does recall a petite blond woman yelling at Greg for some reason or other, although at the time it hadn’t occurred her she might have been his wife. They certainly didn’t look like two people who actually like each other.

“Am I correct assuming that’s over now?”

Greg shrugs casually. “I do work too much and of course, all her affairs didn’t really help matters so… yeah, that’s ancient history.”

“I’m sorry to hear so,” she says and surprises herself by how true the sentiment rings. She doesn’t miss the dating or the going out that much, but the companionship… the affection… that, she thinks, it’s important for any human being.

“Oh, it’s fine, really,” Greg insists, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ve always been more in love with my work than with anyone else so… it’s fine.”

But he does look a bit wistful, Sally thinks, as she watches him bury himself back into his work. It’s clear as water he enjoys what he does, she has known that since the first day she stepped into Lestrade, Gregson & Associates, but now that she has stopped to think about it, he’s always seemed… lonely.

It’s a pity, she thinks to herself, staring at her boss from the corner of her eye. Objectively speaking, Greg is a handsome fellow if a bit past his prime. The grey hair and the wrinkles though seem to give him a distinguished air and the nice suits make him look like a real gentleman. He’s also the kind of guy who opens the door and pulls out chairs and is ridiculous polite even when it’s clear as water he wants to strangle his interlocutor. Why, if he was a few years younger and Sally hadn’t swore off men (particularly coworkers) after her last… eh… ill advised romance, maybe she’d go for it.

She smiles at her own line of thought, amused by it. It’s none of her business, she knows and she ought to be focusing on the work rather than her boss’ sad excuse of a love life.

It’s really none of his business.

* * *

 

And yet, she doesn’t seem capable of shaking the thought off. She finds herself going back to her late night musings the next day, while she runs across the office like a headless chicken, grabbing files and delivering information to the other lawyers of the firm, making her reports, politely reminding people where they ought to be at which time. She also gets Greg his lunch (a sandwich once again) and fixes yet more coffee for him.

It can’t be healthy the amount of coffee he drinks, she thinks, but doesn’t say.

By the end of the day she’s dead on her feet, her high heels long discarded underneath her desk once more and Greg has locked himself in his office, arguing something with some important client that seems determined to make the lawyer lose his mind. Sally pads in the direction of the kitchenette they share with the accounting firm across the hall and her whole face lightens up when she notices Anthea is already there.

Her joy, however, is short lived.

“--selfish prick! Who does he think he is? Why is it even my problem? It’s not my problem he hasn’t sleep in a week, how is that my fault? The idiotic, moronic--”

“Woaw, sister, relax. I’m sure the coffee machine hasn’t done anything to you,” Sally points out and Anthea seems to snap out of her furious rambling. She offers her an embarrassed smile, finishing pushing the buttons to get the machine working, with much less violence than before. “Long day?”

Anthea huffs. “You have no idea,” she runs a hand through her usually immaculate hair, messing it further. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs, not looking at Sally directly. “It’s just… my boss has been…”

“A selfish prick?” Sally suggests, prompting laughter from her companion.

“You can say that again,” the older woman agrees, reaching for one of the top cabinets and bringing a jar down from it. “Don’t tell anyone,” she says conspiratorially, opening the jar to reveal a stash of chocolate cookies. “This is my emergency stash and no one shall ever know of its existence.”

Sally smiles, “my lips are sealed,” she promises, recognizing the confession for what it is: a sign of trust. “I happen to have a vodka bottle in my desk, if you ever feel the cookies aren’t going to cut it.”

“Vodka?” Anthea repeats dreamily. “God, it’s been years since I had a decent drink.” When Sally frowns, confused, she continues. “Alcohol always give me headaches, even when I just have one drink. My boss… doesn’t appreciate me calling in sick.”

“He sounds delightful,” Sally says sarcastically.

Anthea smiles wryly, shrugging. “He’s a nice fellow, I swear. A little… difficult and particular, but overall a good boss and a decent person,” she says earnestly, nibbling onto her cookie which is… oddly distracting. “He just needs to relax, you know? Maybe get laid.”

Sally snorts at that and Anthea smiles back, offering her one cookie. Sally takes it gladly, although she’s not a real fan of chocolate. Still, she figures it wouldn’t be polite to say no.

“You know,” she begins, chewing on the cookie absentmindedly. “I was just thinking my boss needs that too. Well, no, I was being a bit more…  _ romantic  _ but in all truth… that’s probably the most I can do for him, considering his tendency to put work first.”

The coffee is done, so she passes Anthea her boss’ cup before filling her own. Anthea is watching her intently, which makes Sally a little self conscious. “Did I say something?” she asks, going through their conversation inside her head to figure out if she did say something weird.

“Say, your boss won’t happen to be gay, huh?”

“Well, there was a wife although I suppose that doesn’t mean much in the great scheme of things,” Sally says, still not quite catching the other woman’s meaning but, in her defense, it’s quite late and she’s tired.

“Huh. Worth a try, I suppose,” Anthea says, nodding to herself approvingly.

Sally blinks, confused. “Sorry. I… I feel like I’m missing something.”

Her companion smirks, twirling the coffee cup absentmindedly. “Maybe we ought to discuss this once we’re both better rested. Meet me for lunch tomorrow?” she asks, in that tone of hers that seems to imply she won’t take no for an answer. Not that Sally has ever heard it directed at her before, of course, but she won’t deny it sends a special kind of thrill down her spine.

“I… sure?”

“Good,” Anthea says, turning on her heel and starting to make her way back to her own office. “I’ll text you,” she informs her looking over her shoulder and winking saucily, leaving Sally vaguely confused but terribly excited.

What the hell has she gotten herself into? 

And why does it feel like she has bitten more than what she can chew?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! As I said, this isn’t meant to be super long and so it might be a little simple...but I hope you’ll find it enjoyable regardless ;)

Greg is having a bad day.

Which isn’t that unusual, truth to be told, not considering his ridiculously stressful job which is only made more stressful by his very frustrating clients who seem to believe he’s some sort of genie at their command.

Unfortunately, he has no magic and that means he has to fulfil their ridiculous demands the hard way. And while Greg is a workaholic, he’s a decent fellow and so incapable of making people work extra hours just because the clients are being pompous pricks. He can’t extend that courtesy to his personal assistant, sadly, because where would he be without Sally around?

It seems tonight is the night he’s going to find that out, though. Because Sally is home with some nasty cold; she had sounded like she was dying on the phone and Greg really couldn’t ask her to come in, nevermind if he fears he’s actually incapable of functioning without her around.

Surely it won’t be that hard. Surely he’s just being paranoid.

It’s a little past midnight when his eyelids start dropping on their own accord and when he reaches for his coffee cup, he finds it empty. He frowns briefly, opening his mouth to call for Sally and then remembers his trusted assistant isn’t here. With a sigh, he forces himself to stand up and takes a few seconds to stretch out, noticing his whole body is aching in unpleasant ways.

He makes his way in the direction of the kitchenette, or at least in the direction he thinks it is. It’s been ages since he had to make his own coffee or worry about his lunch, so his memory is a little rusty. He always had an amazing memory for little facts that most people forget and that’s what makes him one hell of a lawyer but when it comes to the regular everyday tasks…

Well. He’s always been a little hopeless.

Which is why Sally has been heaven sent. He managed before, more or less, but his assistants rarely lasted longer than a couple of months, no matter how well he paid them and all the extra benefits of working for the firm. He’s aware his long hours put a toll on most people and most people tend to value their relationships more than their work so… he hadn’t been surprised by how often he found himself looking for a new assistant.

But Sally is… well, she’s not quite as much of a workaholic as himself, but she has no family, nor a significant other and so she doesn’t mind staying late. From what he’s seen, Greg suspects she’s not very good at making friends either: she’s the kind of person who doesn’t take anyone’s bullshit and can be quite direct and sometimes even harsh, so a lot of their coworkers tend to avoid her mostly. She’s either used to it or truly doesn’t mind one bit, because she doesn’t let that affect her working relationships.

There was of course that ill advised “romance” Greg hadn’t said anything about because he figured it wasn’t really his place, but he thinks he should have warned her about Anderson. As he had predicted, things had crashed and burnt between them and then he had had to fire Anderson, which, truth to be told, hadn’t been ideal but replacing him had been much easier than replacing Sally would have been.

He suspects Sally’s… devotion to him and their work is also result of Greg taking her side on that terrible business. They’ve never mentioned again, but the incident hangs between them and while it could have made things terribly awkward, it has in fact helped their working relationship quite a lot.

It takes him a few detours, but he finally finds the kitchenette, still lost in his thoughts. Who would have thought this place is so big, anyway? The floor is quite spacious, he knows, but they share it with an accounting firm and surely he doesn’t have that many people working with him, right?

He fumbles a bit with the coffee machine, but he manages to get it working eventually. Proud of himself, Greg allows himself to relax a little, leaning against the counter while he waits for the coffee to be done, closing his eyes for a bit. He’s tired, there’s no denying that, but he still has much to do and he’s unwilling to go home until he’s finished.

“Oh,” the soft sound startles Greg, having thought he was all alone. He opens his eyes to find a man standing by the kitchenette entrance, carrying a coffee cup himself and for a beat they just stare at each other, both evidently puzzled by the other’s presence.

“I’m sorry,” the man says, recovering from his surprise first. “I’m… I just… I didn’t expect anyone else to be around at this hour.”

Greg smiles ruefully. “Neither did I,” he replies easily, allowing himself to relax once more, since it seems the stranger does work here. “I’m Greg,” he introduces himself, offering his hand to shake and the other man takes it almost warily, but his handshake is firm.

“Mycroft,” the other man says, pulling away from the handshake quite quickly. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve seen you around.”

_ Neither have I,  _ Greg thinks, because he’d definitely remember him if he had. A little posh for his tastes, perhaps, but the man is definitely a looker and something about his prim and proper appearance just makes Greg want to…

Well. That’s most unprofessional of him.

“My assistant usually makes my coffee,” Greg explains, after what he suspects was a too long pause. “She’s a little sick right now, unfortunately.”

“Ah,” Mycroft replies, nodding. “You must be the main partner at the law firm, then.”

“Yes,” Greg agrees simply and wonders if asking who the other man is would be appropriate. He does not want to sound rude, but--

“My assistant usually fetches my coffee too,” his companion continues shortly after, saving Greg from having to say anything else. “I’m the owner of the accounting firm next door.”

“Oh!” Greg exclaims, nodding. “Of course. That explains why I’ve never seen you before: I do make a point of interviewing most of my employees.” He allows himself to take another good (but discreet) look at the other man then: since they don’t work together, he supposes it’s not terribly unprofessional of him after all.

“Are you done with the coffee machine?” Mycroft asks after a rather long pause and Greg can feel his ears heating up immediately. He’s such an idiot sometimes and really, getting distracted like this…

“Yeah, sorry, sorry,” he says, fetching his cup, offering his companion an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I just… sorry.” His companion shrugs non committedly, filling his own cup and turning to face him once more.

_ This is weird, _ Greg thinks and he wonders if it’s high time for him to head back to his office. He should, really, because he’s never going to be done with it otherwise, but-- “What happened to your assistant, then?” he says, taking a small sip of his coffee and making a face, noticing he has forgotten the sugar. He looks around the room wildly, feeling like he’s making a fool out of himself and while Mycroft’s face remains mostly blank, there’s something in his eyes that hints he’s more amused than he lets it show.

“Here,” Mycroft finally says, taking pity of him and passing him the sugar jar, which Greg takes gratefully. “Anthea seems to have caught a nasty cold too. Perhaps we’re at beginning stage of an epidemia?”

“God, I hope not,” Greg murmurs, thinking of all the cases he has piled up on his desk. He tries to delegate, he really does, but… well, it seems he usually ends with a ridiculous amount of paperwork to do for some reason or other.

Mycroft huffs, a slight smile on his lips and Greg forgets all about workload. Good god, that smile! It’s a small shy reserved thing, the sort of smile people who’re not used to smiling have and yet it’s the most wonderful thing Greg has ever seen.

“I suppose that as a fellow… eh…  _ devoted worker _ , you see why that’d be a bad thing,” Mycroft comments, staring at the far wall and seemingly avoiding Greg’s eyes at all costs. Greg suspects he’s not really a man used to small talk and yet he seems to be willing to try with him for some reason.

Maybe it doesn’t mean anything. Maybe he’s just feeling as lonely as Greg himself feels. It’s different when Sal is around, of course, because even though they don’t speak much he  _ knows _ she’s there. But maybe… maybe…

It’s been way too long since Greg tried flirting and he doesn’t think he was very good at it to begin with. People approached him in his youth because he was a handsome, successful lawyer and while he wasn’t exactly rich, his father had already the firm running and they were doing fairly well. But he has always worked too much and he forgets dates and…

But perhaps… perhaps this is his chance to…

To what, exactly?

“Devoted is not the word people use to describe me,” Greg says, offering the other man an easy smile, “workaholic, Sal, my assistant, calls me.”

Mycroft’s smile is a little more confident now, but it’s still a far cry from a wide one. “Yes, Anthea has called me that too. Among other… less polite names.”

Greg laughs. “Assistants, right? You have to let them get away with a lot of things because where would we be without them?”

“Sharing coffee in the kitchenette instead of working, apparently,” Mycroft replies, but his tone is friendly and he looks more relaxed now, so Greg guesses he’s in no real rush to get back to work.

“Huh. Maybe I should let her go home earlier, then,” Greg says in what he hopes is a flirtatious manner although he’s fairly certain he misses the mark somewhat. “I do pay her a lot of extra hours.”

“Perhaps,” Mycroft agrees quietly, watching Greg from the corner of his eye. “I… I hope this doesn’t come out wrong, but I had been hoping to meet you for a while. I’ve… I’ve read of your cases on the papers often enough.”

Greg preens like a peacock, as he usually does when someone praises his work. He supposes that’s not strictly what Mycroft is doing, but-- “Yeah, I… You know, I originally wanted to be a cop,” he confesses softly, toying with his coffee cup, feeling oddly embarrassed. It’s just… it’s not something he has told anyone else before, other than his father, that is, who hadn’t been exactly supportive. 

“It’s not as fancy,” Mycroft says, sounding hesitant. “But I suppose the end result is more or less the same: bring justice to the people.”

Greg huffs. “Yeah, right. Except of course when the clients are guilty as hell but just as rich.”

“You do not take those cases,” Mycroft argues calmly. “I… the reason I wanted to meet you was precisely because of that: a lawyer with morals is not something you see every day.”

Greg has to laugh at that, amused and endeared in equal measure. “We’re a dying breed, indeed. I might be the last one you’ll see in your lifetime.”

“I sure hope not,” Mycroft replies softly. “But I’m afraid all I’ve met so far… well.”

“Lots of corporates, right?” Greg asks. “Those are the worst.”

Mycroft laughs now and that somehow makes Greg feel prouder of himself than anything he has ever done before. “Agreed,” he replies before they lapse into a comfortable silence, both drinking their respective coffees thoughtfully.

“What about you?” Greg asks after a while, earning himself a confused frown from his companion. “What did you want to be when you were younger? Or did you always know you wanted to work in accounting?”

“Oh good, no,” Mycroft replies, scrunching his nose in displeasure and Greg thinks that’s the most adorable thing ever. “Accountants are so… boring. Which I suppose it’s fiting now, but I’d like to think I wasn’t quite as boring when I was younger.”

“You’re far from boring,” Greg argues and Mycroft stares at him intently, as if trying to find out if he’s lying. He holds his stare evenly, smiling a little and finally the other man looks away, a mighty blush covering his cheeks.

“Yes, well… I’m afraid you haven’t known me for long.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better,” Greg says with his most charming smile and Mycroft looks like a deer caught in the highlights which is both amusing and a tad worrisome. Did he read this wrong?

“Perhaps… perhaps that could be arranged,” Mycroft says slowly, looking at Greg from underneath his lashes and the lawyer’s heart skips a beat. “Once my assistant is back, of course.”

Greg smiles, nodding. “I hope she makes a swift recovery.”

Mycroft’s blush seems to intensify and he turns his head to the side, so he’s not facing Greg directly. “I… I think I should get back to work now,” he murmurs. “I do have a lot of work to do.”

“So do I,” Greg agrees, finishing his coffee cup. “I’ll see you around then, I suppose.”

The both turn around at the same time, heading for their respective offices, although their reluctance to do so is palpable. Greg looks over his shoulder, just in time to catch Mycroft doing the same and the other man blushes some more before hurrying down the hall, talking to himself in quiet tones; Greg thinks he might be chiding himself.

The lawyer smiles, his stomach fluttering as it hasn’t done since he was a teen. He takes out his phone, checking his own agenda for the first time in years (Sal always reminds him of his appointments), thinking of when he can fit a lunch date.

After all, Mycroft didn’t answer his question about what he wanted to do when he was younger.

And that’s certainly not all he’d like to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> There’s just one more chapter to go and that’s even shorter, but I didn’t feel like complicating it too much. I’m starting to think that might not be super rom-comish, but well… I hope it’ll be enjoyable regardless.  
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s the last chapter! As I said, this was meant to be short, but I’m a little unsure about this last chapter. I think it might make it feel somewhat incomplete…  
> Anyway, enjoy?

Anthea steps out of the office, eyes still glued to her phone, but she looks up immediately when she hears the door on the other side of the hall opening. She smiles, just the tiniest bit, still uncertain of how much emotion would be appropriate to show. She and Sally have known each other for a long while, of course, but they haven’t been dating that long and maybe--

“Hey,” Saly greets, with a bright smile of her own and Anthea’s stomach flips funnily. She had never truly minded her long hours, but ever since she met the other woman… well. She’s more than a little thankful for the crazy hours her boss likes to pull.

“Shall we?” Anthea says, offering her arm and Sally rolls her eyes good naturedly before taking it. Just then, the elevator’s doors open and two men step out.

The taller man’s eyes dart from one woman to another, to their joined arms and he huffs. “Well, this is wonderful,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “A match made in hell.”

“Sherlock,” Anthea greets, smiling sweetly. It’s not her fault Sherlock has spent so much time getting in trouble and that she was tasked more often than not with getting him out of it, but it certainly has made him… a bit resentful, perhaps. His comment however… “You know each other?” she asks, turning to Sally expectantly, just to find her girlfriend is glaring daggers at the man.

“Unfortunately,” both Sherlock and Sally reply at the same time. “Going out for lunch?” Sherlock asks, watching Sally closely and the woman glares some more.

“Yes,” she replies finally. “Greg is--”

“In his office, as usual,” Sherlock says dismissively. “Don’t worry, your presence won’t be missed.”

Sally opens her mouth to say something and Anthea has the impression this might escalate soon enough, but just then the front door of the law firm opens and a man steps out, stopping dead on his feet after taking in the scene happening in front of him.

“Oh… umm… what’s going on?” he asks, probably sensing the tension in the air.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock greets, pushing past Anthea and Sally, evidently having forgotten all about them. “We’ve got much to discuss!”

“Ah, yes, well… does it have to be right now?” the other man asks, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. “It’s just… you see… I’m going out for lunch.”

Sherlock blinks confusedly. “You never go out for lunch. In fact, you never even have lunch.”

“Yes, well…”

The door behind Anthea opens just then and she sees his boss stepping out, just to freeze too at the sight of the people standing in the rather small hall. “Is there a problem?” Mycroft asks, looking between the reunited people and Sherlock’s eyes go to him immediately, taking in the fact that he’s carrying his umbrella, which signals he’s going out.

“No,” Sherlock murmurs, looking between Mycroft and t Lestrade. “No!” he exclaims once more, turning to Sally and Anthea. “How dare you?!” he demands, throwing his arms up, “Nonono. This is... oh god, I think I’m going to be sick…”

“I’m sorry about this,” says Sherlock’s companion, finally stepping forward, taking the younger man by the arm. “I’m afraid Sherlock missed his afternoon nap and he’s a bit cranky now.”

“I’m not!” Sherlock exclaims, pouting dramatically. “Don’t you see what’s wrong with all this?!” he continues, gesturing even more dramatically and his partner just rolls his eyes fondly, an amused smile on his lips. “I’m not a baby, John,” he argues softly, seeing his companion evidently doesn’t share his opinion and so he’s not going to back him up.

“Of course not, darling,” John agrees easily, patting Sherlock’s arm affectionately, throwing a smile in Lestrade’s direction. “Don’t worry, we’ll be at your office. Have a nice lunch!” And he proceeds to drag his companion into the office, talking to him in hushed tones, although Sherlock is still glaring daggers at everyone else.

“You’re Sherlock’s brother,” Lestrade says, turning to Mycroft. “Of course. How didn’t I put two and two together?”

“Holmes is not such an uncommon last name,” Mycroft says flippantly, offering his arm to the other man, obviously having forgotten all about Anthea and Sally, eyes fixed on each other. “I was thinking about trying this french restaurant just down the corner…” They get into the elevator, the door closing after them, oblivious to everything else that’s not each other.

“Well,” Anthea says, after a brief silence. “I think our plan worked out rather well, huh?”

“Indeed,” Sally agrees. “Although I wasn’t aware your boss was related to the… Sherlock, I mean.”

“Ah,” Anthea murmurs, nodding. “He’s… a bit difficult, but he grows onto you.” At Sally’s doubtful look, she laughs good naturedly. “He’s much better now that John’s around.”

“That much is true,” Sally agrees, nose scrunched in displeasure. “Can we please not talk about him anymore, though? Or our bosses? I just… I don’t want to ruin my appetite.”

“Yes, indeed,” Anthea agrees. “I’m starving, aren’t you?”

Sally smiles. “Oh yes, starving,” she says and the way she’s looking at Anthea’s lips tells the woman she’s not exactly talking about food. 

Ah, to be young and be able to pull long hours even after skipping a meal for the sake of another type of pleasure… “Afraid that’ll have to wait for tonight,” she says, biting her lip. “I really do need to eat right now.”

Sally laughs, kissing her on the lips chastely. “Alright. I hold you onto that.”

* * *

 

“It’s eight o’clock,” Anthea says unbelievingly, staring at her watch and then at her phone, making sure she’s got the hour right.

“I’m aware,” her boss says calmly, continuing putting his things away for the night, either completely oblivious to the fact that Anthea is gaping like a fish out of water or not caring one bit about it.

“It’s eight o’clock,” the woman repeats very slowly, as if she was trying to explain a particularly difficult subject to a child. Mycroft arches an eyebrow, amused, holding the office’s door open for her and Anthea steps out, feeling like she’s hallucinating. Maybe that’s it? Maybe she’s so overworked she somehow passed out of sheer exhaustion and is now having a dream? “You never leave the office before midnight, at the very least.”

Mycroft hums absentmindedly, his whole focus on his phone, a light smile on his lips. “Aren’t you happy your little scheme worked out just perfectly?” he asks, typing something on his phone, still smiling.

“What?” she asks, aiming to sound innocent and missing the mark entirely. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” Mycroft agrees, smiling knowingly. “But, thank you anyway.”

She blinks, processing the information, feeling slightly overwhelmed with emotion. “You’re welcome,” she replies, smiling now too. “Does that mean I’m done for the night too?”

Mycroft huffs. “Of course. I’m sure your… eh…  _ new friend  _ will be pleased with the news too.”

“Well, you know… I’m not saying we got you together for the sake of actually getting the chance to have a life outside the office but… you know. It’s a pleasant side effect.”

Mycroft rolls his eyes fondly, but he soons forgets all about her, since they’ve exited the firm’s door to find Sally and her own boss waiting outside. “Shall we?” Mycroft says, offering his arm to the other man, sharing a small smile with him, that makes Anthea grin like a maniac.

“I must say,” Sally tells her, once the men have gotten into the elevator and the door closed after them. “I wasn’t so sure your little plan would work. But boy, am I glad it did.”

Anthea laughs, bumping her companion’s shoulder playfully. “Well, now that we have the rest of the night for ourselves… where to, my fair lady?”

Sally rolls her eyes, but pulls her into her arms, smiling. “I can think of a couple of places.”

“Couple?” Anthea asks. “Why so many?”

Sally chuckles good naturedly. “I think it’s high time I buy you dinner, don’t you think?”

Anthea considers this very briefly, mostly just for show. “I think you’ve bought me enough lunches so we can skip all that.”

In lieu of a response, Sally just laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it!  
> As I said, I’m a bit worried it feels somewhat rushed, but I thought it was a good place to end it. I had considered making it slightly more dramatic (any good rom com needs some drama) but I just didn’t feel up to it. I do write a whole of angst and this was more on the humorous side so… well ;)  
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?

**Author's Note:**

> So, thoughts anyone? As I said, this won’t be overly long, but I hope it’ll prove entertaining regardless ;)  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?  
> English is not my native language, so any mistakes you find, please point them out!  
> You can also find me in [tumblr](http://ylc1.tumblr.com/)


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